


Scenes from an Unlikely Friendship

by Fleurisse



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Coming of Age, Demisexual Character, Developing Friendships, F/M, Family Loss, Isolation, Loneliness, Other, Romantic Friendship, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurisse/pseuds/Fleurisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This collection of scenes doesn't follow a traditional story arc so it will probably end unsatisfactorily for many readers. The reason is that Genny and Madds' story is ongoing in a tabletop RPG that I'm playing with friends.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Sparring Match

**Author's Note:**

> This collection of scenes doesn't follow a traditional story arc so it will probably end unsatisfactorily for many readers. The reason is that Genny and Madds' story is ongoing in a tabletop RPG that I'm playing with friends.

Genny rearranged the cotton scarf she wore to keep the sweat out of her eyes and replaced her wide-brimmed straw hat. It was a still, sweltering early autumn afternoon in Arguvan, and the market square reeked of too-ripe fruit with an undercurrent of feces and urine – mostly from the livestock, but it wasn’t uncommon for Psyrene men to relieve themselves against the walls if the need overtook them.

Business had been brisk in the morning, when cooler temperatures prevailed. Genny had sold a decent weight of her mother’s cashmere yarn, as well as several bushels of lemons and a few dressed and plucked chickens. She and her family had started harvesting green olives, too, but they had to undergo several months’ fermentation before Genny would be bringing any to market.

Genny considered the possibility of packing up early. She could load the cart and take the horses down to the river, stop for a swim on the way home. In this heat, it was unlikely anyone would be leaving the cool shade of their homes before the market ended, anyway – at least not anyone with _sense_. She groaned as she spotted the tall figure of Lieutenant Falgout coming up the street, trailing a small cluster of sun-burnt, swaggering, green-garbed Imperial soldiers behind him. So much for a quiet getaway.

Lieutenant Falgout moved inexorably towards her stall, white teeth flashing in his tanned face as his blue eyes laughed at her. “Hey goat-girl, what have you got for me today?”

Genny gritted her teeth and decided to pre-emptively insult her wares in the hope that would wipe Falgout’s stupid grin off his face. “Oh, the usual. Overripe lemons, I’m sure. Some half-rotted chickens in my cooler. Wilted parsley – we had a bumper crop this year. And of course, we can’t forget the scratchy cashmere.”

Falgout turned his grin to his companions. “You see? Born and raised in Psyra, but you can’t breed out the honest Aveyronnais peasant. I always buy from this one, because I know she at least won’t try to rip me off.”

Aveyronnais peasant? Seriously? “My parents are not peasants!” Genny seethed. “They are Castalia graduates and I daresay they know a lot more than you can ever hope to cram into that tiny, undeveloped rhombencephalon that sits between your ears!”

“Well, who needs a cerebrum, anyway, goat-girl? Motor control, autonomous nervous functions, vasodilation – I’ve got all that covered, and what else does a man need, really?” Falgout twitched his hips suggestively, eliciting raucous laughter from most of his companions. One looked puzzled. Falgout clapped him on the back. “I’ll explain back at the barracks, Keppler.” 

Genny felt herself glowering at the whole lot of them. “If you’re the Empire’s best and brightest, I don’t hold out much hope for the future.” It was weak, she knew, but she hadn’t expected Falgout to actually know his anatomy. He’d caught her off-guard. “So are you actually going to buy something, or are you just going to stand there and use up my oxygen? I’d rather you didn’t, because I’m not ready to die, especially not if your face is the last sight I’ll ever see.”

“I’m amazed you manage to sell anything if you abuse all your customers this way.”

“Not all. You get special treatment.”

“I think she likes you, sir,” someone whose nametag read “Vautrin” snickered.

“About as much as anyone can like a scabrous jackass,” Genny agreed. She started packing lemons into baskets.

“Hey, whoa – there’s an hour and a half left before the market ends. You aren’t leaving just yet, are you, goat-girl?”

“Why not? There’s no rule that says I have to stay until the bitter end. Especially when there are no paying customers, and none like to be had. Some of us have to work for a living, you know.” Genny was pleased when Falgout’s non-commissioned companions guffawed at her neatly purloined comment.

“Fine, fine. I’ve a mind to buy some of your scratchy cashmere, goat-girl. I’ll get my sister to knit me a hat. And how many half-rotten chickens did you say you had left? I’ll take them all. It’s Keppler’s birthday. We should celebrate, eh boys?” His companions cheered.

Genny gratefully packaged up the items Falgout asked for. Usually when he bought something, it signalled the end of his amusements at her stall. “You’d best get those chickens cooking quickly. It _is_ blasted hot today; they won’t last very long,” she advised, not altogether altruistically.

“Yes, sir. Understood, sir. No more having fun with you, sir.” Falgout answered Genny’s glare with another grin before turning back to his soldiers. “Let’s go, boys. Last one back to the barracks cleans up after the party.” Five pairs of jackbooted feet thundered out of the market square. Falgout watched them go before turning back to Genny, laden with his chickens. “Scabrous, eh? In which sense of the word?”

“Can’t it be all of them?” Genny replied acerbically.

It was only after he left that she realized he’d be the last one back to the barracks.


	2. Of Jackasses and Jennies

It was Eleventh-month. Her stock having been molested by a Psyrene fruit-buyer intent on striking an advantageous bargain, Genny was busily rearranging oranges in an aesthetically pleasing manner when Lieutenant Falgout made his usual appearance. She smiled to herself, thinking of the surprise she had in store for him today. Wiping her citrus-scented hands on her apron, she walked around the display table and pulled a small, covered basket out from underneath it.

“Good morning, goat-girl,” Falgout flashed his trademark grin. “What have you got for me today?”

“Oh, something extra special. The very best of our overripe oranges, all for you.” Genny whipped off the checkered cloth to reveal an unwholesome pile of green and white fuzz-covered oranges. Their pungent aroma, a mixture of citrus and moist earth, wafted up to envelop herself and Falgout. She would gleefully take the expression of horror and disgust on his face with her to her grave, she knew. “And as a thank you for your kind patronage over the last few months, I will give them to you for free.” She noticed the greyish-green smear of spores on the cloth and wrinkled her nose delicately. “You can even have this lovely cloth.” She carefully tucked it around the unsightly produce once more and held the basket out towards Falgout, who made no move to take it. She smirked.

Falgout smirked back. “That’s foul. So… what? Did you hide some oranges under your bed and fall asleep every night dreaming of this day, or…? I’m flattered.”

“You flatter yourself if you think I spend any moment of any of my days thinking of you. I found some mouldy oranges yesterday afternoon when I was going through what we harvested this week, preparing my stock. ‘Ah ha!’ I thought to myself. ‘Maybe things take so long to get to Diablotin from Psyra that he actually grew up eating them like this. That would explain a lot.’”

“So… you do think about me then.”

Genny gave him a dark look. “Yes, I think about you. I think about ways to rid myself of you. One of my oranges, casually dropped in front of you, perhaps, just as you are taking a step. Your foot comes down on the orange, crushing it. Juices spurt out, making the ground slick. Whoops! You fall, and your head cracks open on the paving stones. ‘Oh gods! It was an accident! Oh gods, somebody help him!’ I’ll say. But it will be too late; the pulp between your ears will be mingling with the pulp of the orange, and anyway, none of these people will help you; they’re all Psyrenes.”

Lieutenant Falgout stared at her, blue eyes wide with disbelief before he burst out laughing. “You crack me up, goat-girl. You have quite the imagination. Have you ever thought of becoming a writer?” 

“No.”

“Well, perhaps you should. You’re wasted on a farm, grubbing about in the dirt. Picking fruit.”

Genny glared at him. He really had no clue. “You are such a jackass. I happen to love farming. And, for your information, there’s very little ‘grubbing about in the dirt’ at our farm, because we grow _tree crops_. But even if I had to stoop over and plant seeds every spring, I would not consider it a waste. Who do you think puts food on your table, city-boy? People like me. Farming is the foundation upon which your precious Diablotin was built. All those buildings you boast about – the palace, the Castalia, the temples – those were made possible because people like me devote our time to growing food so that the architects and the builders – and the spoilt little noble sons – don’t have to.”

Falgout looked taken aback, but his eyes were still laughing. “My, you are a proud one, aren’t you?”

“And why shouldn’t I be? My family may not be as illustrious as yours, but we work hard, and we do what we do well. We aren’t just farmers; we’re also scientists. Maman and Papa have been developing new hybrids so that olives can be grown in other parts of the Empire. That will help reduce our dependence on… well, on Psyra. We’re working on our second generation of hardier trees right now. They’ve started yielding fruit already. It’s going to take a long time, though, because each tree takes at least ten years before it starts bearing. I’m going to follow in their footsteps. Someday, Doucette olives might be almost as important as Falgout emperors.”

“Is that your name? Doucette?”

Falgout’s question brought Genny up short. She’d been meaning to replace the sign on her family’s market stall, but never found the time to do it. Had it really been months since she’d noticed that it was gone? Had it gone missing before he even arrived in Arguvan? She couldn’t remember. “Yes...” She peered at Falgout suspiciously. “Is that why you call me goat-girl? You didn’t know my name?” He crossed his arms and gave her a smug smile. She felt suddenly foolish. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

“It was dual-purpose.”

Genny’s temper flared again. “You are such a jackass!”

“Well, if I’m a jackass, you’re a jenny.”

“So you did know my name!” Genny practically shouted, fuming. Nearby merchants looked askance. She lowered her voice again, embarrassed to be causing a scene. “You aren’t just a jackass; you’re a rotten bastard and I hate you,” she hissed. She was going to add more but Falgout was bent over double, laughing.

“Your name is Jenny. Really? Oh, that’s too funny. Oh, that’s bloody rich!” Genny wasn’t sure what was so funny about it. This must have showed on her face, because when Falgout managed to stop laughing long enough to look at her, he wheezed out “Jenny, like a female ass?!” before collapsing once more into fits of giggles.

“Genny, spelled with a letter ‘g’,” she replied humourlessly. “Short for Genevriel.”

Falgout unfolded his tall frame long enough to hold out his hand for a shake. “Maddox. Maddox Falgout.” Unsure what else to do, Genny shook it. “Shall we start anew, Mademoiselle Doucette?”

Still not quite sure what was going on or what to even make of the tall, rage-inducing soldier before her, she essayed a bewildered smile. “Well, there may be some hope for you after all. You seem to at least know your animals.”


	3. The Hunt

Genny checked her watch for the tenth time. She picked up her rifle from her knees and stretched out her legs, which were growing numb from having sat cross-legged for too long. She balanced her rifle across her thighs again. She looked towards the east. The sun was well up in the sky. She looked towards the west. Lieutenant Falgout had not yet arrived, and there was no telltale plume of dust on the road to suggest he was coming, either.

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. She didn’t know what had possessed her to invite the man to go for a deer hunt with her when he stopped by her stall last market day. She had just sort of blurted it out in the spur of the moment, and had been fretting over it and regretting the invitation ever since. What kind of girl asked a man she barely knew to go spend an entire day alone with her in the woods? Especially a man like Falgout, who thought he was the gods’ gift to women. A stupid girl, that’s the kind of girl who would do something like that. Well, if he tried anything, she had a rifle and knew how to use it.

Not that she really expected he would try anything. Her whole life, people had been commenting on her height, her face, her mannish figure. She knew quite well that she just wasn’t the kind of girl anyone would be interested in. 

She checked her watch again. It was eight-thirty of the morning; if she didn’t begin her hunt soon, she’d have gotten up at four for absolutely nothing. She stood up, slung her rifle over her shoulder, and dusted off the seat of her breeches. It was just as well he hadn’t showed up, she thought. She would have a nice, pleasant day without Falgout’s mockery or his boasting. He’d probably only scare away the deer, anyway.

She turned from the road and was just heading into the woods when she heard the distinctive tattoo of a single horse trotting from the west. She paused until she could just make out the animal and its rider, who was posting smartly, but it couldn’t be Falgout because he was not wearing green. She turned back to the woods.

“Goat-girl!” Genny closed her eyes and counted to ten. The horse’s pace picked up to a canter. By the time she had calmed her ire and turned to the road once more, Lieutenant Falgout was just pulling up on a rangy brown bay. “Sorry… Mademoiselle Doucette. And sorry also for being late. ‘By the time you graduate,’ they say at the Academy, ‘you’ll be ready to lead the best, bravest men and women of the Empire.’ Only they don’t tell you that there’s only the finest of lines separating the best, bravest men and women of the Empire from one’s own nieces and nephews. ’I’m hot, Lieutenant!’ ’Do we have to do drill _again_ , Lieutenant?’ ’Our squadron did mess hall clean up _last_ week, Lieutenant!’ ‘I _hate_ bacon and eggs, Lieutenant!’ ‘ _Lieutenant!_ I can’t tie my shoes!’”

In spite of herself, Genny smiled. “Who hates bacon?”

“I know, right?”

“The tying their shoes thing, that was just exaggeration on your part, right?”

Falgout laughed as he swung one long leg over his horse’s back and dismounted. “Thank goodness. Do me a favour today? Don’t call me Lieutenant. I’m so sick of hearing it.” Holding on to the reins, he pulled a rifle out of its scabbard and slung it over his shoulder before flashing Genny a smile. 

“Is that why you’re in civilian clothes?” Genny sidled up to his horse and held out her hand to its nose, so it could catch her scent. Falgout shrugged and Genny glanced at him again. “What then? Monsieur Falgout?” The horse whuffled through its nostrils, and she felt the warmth of its breath on her palm before giving its long nose a gentle rub.

“Gods, no! I’m not my father. Maddox will do fine. Or Madds, if you prefer. That’s what my favourite sister calls me.”

Genny shrugged. “’Madds’ takes less effort. Nice horse you have here. Where did you find a warmblood tall enough for you? He must be what, sixteen point three hands high at least.”

“Seventeen point one,” Madds replied proudly, giving the horse a fond pat on its neck. “One of my uncles breeds racehorses. Khalif here is fast, just not fast enough. So he gets to go to war with me, don’t you, big boy?” Madds’ tone turned indulgent as he fed the horse a treat from his pocket. “Who wants to race, anyway? Racing is for sissies, isn’t it? Yes, it is.”

Feeling rather like she’d been dropped into some sort of surreal outer plane, Genny chose not to comment. “Well, Jonquil is just through the trees; there’s a small glade with a spring-fed pool. We can leave him with her. You did bring hobbles, I hope?”

“Of course.” Madds followed Genny into the trees. While he tended to Khalif’s comfort, she checked on Jonquil’s, but she kept one eye on him, too. Both he and his horse moved with an easy grace. Compared to Khalif, Jonquil looked rough and ill-bred. Genny felt like a traitor for thinking so. She had seen Jonquil conceived, helped with her birth, had been training her since she was old enough to be broken, and had, until today, been fiercely proud of the filly. But next to Khalif, she seemed diminished. Genny scowled, feeling diminished herself, and turned her back on the soldier and his horse. She made a show of checking Jonquil’s hooves while Falgout finished stripping his horse’s tack and hobbling him.

“Are you almost ready?” Genny jumped at the sound of Maddox’s voice just behind her. “Time’s wasting. The deer won’t be active for much longer.”

“And how many deer hunts have you been on since coming to Psyra?” Genny inquired a bit peevishly as she straightened up and turned around. 

“Well, none.”

“So… having never hunted deer here, you are an expert exactly how? Anyway, you’re the one who arrived late, so if we don’t bag anything today, you'll only have yourself to blame.” 

Madds’ anticipatory smile faded out. “I kind of get the feeling that you don’t actually want me here. Should I not have come?”

Genny sighed. “No, sorry. I’m not being fair.”

Maddox’s smile returned, accompanied by a mocking gleam in his eyes. “Got up on the wrong side of the bed today?” he laughed, and then gave her a sly look. “Or is it lady troubles?” 

Genny glared at him as she slung her rifle over her shoulder and began walking towards the trail that led to the hunting blind. If only looks could kill, her day would suddenly become a lot pleasanter. “Typical. Why do men always assume that if a woman isn’t smiling, she must be menstruating, or about to menstruate? Why can’t we just have had a bad day, or a bad week? We are as human as you are. And anyway, I was under the impression that a woman’s biological functions are not considered a suitable topic for polite conversation.”

Lieutenant Falgout fell into step behind her. “I figured a girl who’d give a gentleman a basket of mouldy oranges and hunts deer for fun probably isn’t the kind of girl who shies away from ‘unsuitable topics’. And, as you say, it is a perfectly natural biological function. I _am_ interested in why bodies are such a taboo subject in our culture, but you’re right. It’s probably a discussion best saved for another time, when we know each other better.”

“If we ever get to that point, which is doubtful.”

“Isn’t that why you invited me to go hunting with you? So we could have a long, intimate discussion about life, religion, politics, the universe? What else are we going to do as we sit cooped up in a blind together for hours? Or do you Psyrene Aveyronnais hunt deer differently? Oh- wait! Maybe you _did_ have something other than talking in mind. I’m flattered, but honestly it would be more comfortable in a bed than in a blind.” 

Genny couldn’t help rolling her eyes, but as Falgout was behind her, the effect was lost on him. She turned around to face him, stopping both of them in their tracks. “Right then. Now is as good a time as any for setting some ground rules. As you are a guest on my family’s lands right now, it behooves you to abide by them. Firstly: no innuendos. They’re tiresome and I hate them. Secondly: the only thing we will be doing together today is hunting deer. While we’re on that topic, we will kill no more than two deer today, and both must be antlered. We leave the does for breeding. Thirdly: we hunt for meat, not sport. So leave the bucks with the biggest racks alone. We leave the prime bucks for breeding. Fourthly: stay behind me on the trails. I don’t want you to get lost. Any questions?”

“We’re on your land? This looks like wild forest, not orchards. How much land do you have?”

“One hundred and sixty acres, but so far only sixty are under cultivation. The rest is scrub and woodland, where the deer tend to congregate.”

“That much! Really? That’s bigger than many of my relatives’ country estates. Peasants have it good in Psyra.”

Genny gritted her teeth and faced forward once more so that she could continue down the trail to the blind. “I believe the term you are actually looking for is ‘gentleman farmers.’”

“You know I only call you a peasant because it annoys you so much.” By Falgout’s tone, Genny could tell his eyes were laughing at her again. _Maybe a snake will bite him_ , she thought hopefully. _Or he’ll step on a scorpion_.

“Why are you like that?” Genny asked, tossing the question with seeming carelessness over her shoulder. “Why do you always make fun?”

“Well, I figure it is better than making misery.”

“Your idea of ‘fun’ is only fun for you. It’s miserable for the people you mock.”

“Well, sometimes the one I’m mocking makes a clever rejoinder, and then they have fun, too.”

“It’s very short-lived fun,” Genny replied, speaking with the voice of experience.

“All of life’s experiences are fleeting, aren’t they?”

“I guess so, in the grand scheme of things. But if you have the same sort of experiences over and over - they might be in different places, and with different people, but otherwise they are the same – they all kind of meld together into one lengthy experience with seemingly no end. That could be good, if the experiences are good. But if they’re bad, it’s just… it’s just miserable.”

“Yes, I can see how that might have a profound impact on a person.” Maddox’s voice was unusually gentle. Genny glanced over her shoulder at him.

“That’s why you shouldn’t mock.”

Madds looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I could try not to, and I might even be successful much of the time. But as your experiences have molded you, so have mine molded me. Most people are amused by the things I say.”

“I’m not most people.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Madds fell silent and for a while all Genny could hear was the sound of their feet treading the packed dirt of the trail, and the songs of birds and insects.

At length she broke the silence, speaking in a hushed tone in case there were deer nearby. “Our blind’s just ahead.” She licked her finger and held it up, testing the air. “Wind’s moving towards us, so we’re good.” She led Madds to the blind she and Andri and their father had built, held aside the curtain for Madds to slip inside, and followed him in.

Built of saplings bent into shape and covered with mottled green cloth and withered foliage, it was roomy as far as blinds go, measuring about four feet by six feet. It looked out over a bowl of green fed by a small stream; deer and other animals often came for both grass and water. Genny had spent many a companionable morning or evening with her father or her brother in this very blind, and it felt strange to have Madds there instead. After ascertaining that there were no deer in the small valley below, and making sure that he was comfortable, Genny set out her waterskin within easy reach and settled in for what could become a long wait. They each had their own window through which they could watch the dell and aim their rifles if luck was with them.

After a few minutes of somewhat uncomfortable silence, Genny and Madds both started speaking at once.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Madds asked when they had quite finished interrupting one another.

“I was just curious about how many sisters you have. Since you mentioned you have a favourite, I assume there must be more than one.”

“Oh, yes. I have four sisters, all older than me. Three of them are married with children already. How about you?”

“No sisters. I have a little brother, Andri. That’s all. Do you have any brothers?”

“No. I’m the baby and the only son, so I’m sure my sisters would tell you I was spoiled at least twice as much as they were.”

“Oh! That explains a lot.”

Madds laughed, then covered his mouth with his hand, remembering they were supposed to be quiet. “Sorry!” he whispered.

“You ought to be! Late, and now too noisy.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about it. I always bag my quarry. You won’t be going home empty-handed with me around.”

Genny narrowed her eyes at Falgout’s boastful tone. “Thank goodness I thought to invite you! Can you show me how to fire my gun while you’re at it?”

Her companion’s eyes glinted with mischief and he opened his mouth to say something. Genny glared at him, prompting him to snap it shut again. “Right. No innuendos. Funny how we barely know each other but you’re already anticipating what I’m going to say.”

“Most of the time, a paramecium could probably anticipate what you’re about to say. You are rather predictable, Madds.”

“Surely not a paramecium! They don’t know a thing about sex, so how could they begin to understand me? A roundworm, maybe. They at least have males and females.”

Once again, Genny was surprised. “How do you know so much about biology, anyway? You’re a soldier.”

“Now who’s being judgey? Do you think the only thing a soldier could possibly know is war?”

“’Judgey’ isn’t a word. So, do they teach biology at the military academy?” Genny asked curiously.

“No, but there’s these wonderful things called books. Have you heard of them?”

“Fine, you’ve made your point. Sorry for making assumptions. So, you like to read?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Genny smiled. “Well, everyone who matters.”

“Awww… I matter!” Madds flashed Genny a grin, then made a sudden movement, turning towards his window. He touched his finger to his lips and gestured for Genny to look out her own window. Down in the dell, a small herd of deer had appeared.

“They’re all does,” Genny whispered.

“Mmmm… but this time of year, where there’s does, the bucks can’t be far behind,” Madds whispered back with a smile for Genny. “Can you imagine living like that? No sex for eleven months, then all of sudden, it’s orgy time? Glad I’m not a deer.”

Genny glowered. “Is absolutely everything about sex for you?”

“No. Only about ninety-seven percent is.” Madds looked pensive for a moment. “Maybe ninety-eight.” 

Genny sighed. “How old did you say you were? Sixteen? You remind me of my little brother.”

“Ooooh, ouch.” Madds turned back to peer down into the valley again. “There. What did I tell you?” A few young bucks had emerged from the woods and were checking out the does, who kicked at them with some disdain. “It’s really kind of cruel, isn’t it? These poor young fellows are just looking to get laid, and instead they’re going to end up on our dinner plates.”

Genny glanced at Madds, feeling suddenly a little sad. There was a partial parallel to be drawn between the young bucks they were hunting and the Imperial soldiers stationed in Arguvan if war broke out, which seemed more likely than not. Except that the deers’ death would serve a purpose, while Madds’ and those of his soldiers would just be a waste. 

Madds flashed her another friendly smile. “You want to take the one on the left, and I’ll take the one near the spring?” he asked.

“Sure. But you’ve got more mouths to feed, and my buck’s bigger – so you should take it when we dress them.”

“You’re awfully certain neither of us will miss our mark,” Madds smiled.

“Well, I know _I_ won’t.”

“Ouch again! You’re good with the digs. Note, however, that I do not take them personally. Also, I am an excellent marksman. Got my crossed rifles with a crown and everything.”

“I’m sure your men are suitably impressed. I’d be more impressed if you got that badge for shooting something other than stationary targets. Keep talking long enough and those bucks will just walk away.”

“Didn’t I tell you I grew up hunting? We’ll have to fire more or less simultaneously, or they’ll all just bolt. Ready?”

Genny nodded, raising her rifle to her shoulder as Madds did the same with his.

“Aim.”

Genny looked sidelong at Madds, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. “You’re the range marshal for your soldiers, I take it.”

Madds winked at her before returning his attention to his own sights. “Fire at will.”

Genny squeezed her trigger a fraction of a second before Madds squeezed his; her aim was true and she saw her target collapse, legs kicking briefly before going still. Madds’ buck fell with a shattered shoulder, crying and struggling to rise as the rest of the deer bounded away. Genny took a breath, realigned her sights, and dispatched it smoothly with a second shot. “Right then, now for the dirty work.” She set her rifle down and began stuffing her waterskin back into her small pack.

“Thanks…” Madds said, his tone a little off. She glanced up at him. His pride was bruised, plain as day. Outshot by a girl, and a rustic peasant one, at that.

She could have gloated; he would deserve it after all his boasting, but she resisted the urge. “Hey. We both got a deer. That’s what matters.” She stood up, settled her pack into place, and re-slung her rifle over her shoulder, then offered Madds a hand up. After a pause, he took it. His skin was dry and warm to the touch; his grip firm. She was almost disappointed when he let go.

He gathered his things and they slipped out of the blind one after the other. “So you’re quite the markswoman,” Madds commented as she led him to the trail that led down into the dell. For once there was no hint of mockery in his tone, only respect. She paused, glancing back just in time to see a mischievous smile spread across his face again. “But now let’s see who can field-dress their deer the fastest.”

Genny smiled back. “You’re on.” 

Much to Madds' dismay, she ended up winning that competition, too.


	4. Coffee Mates

It was the first market day in the new year. There had been frost in the morning as Genny loaded up the farm wagon and hitched up Miel and Carillon, her family’s draught horses. But frost and the occasional snowfall never lasted long in Psyra, except in the highlands. The sun had comfortably warmed the air as it rose to its apex in the sky and began to fall again, but it was still winter, and Genny was grateful for the new sweater her mother had knitted for her as a Festival gift.

By the time Genny was packing up her empty and nearly empty produce baskets, Madds had yet to make an appearance. She wondered idly what might have kept him; it was the first time since he had been posted to Arguvan that he had missed a market day and the opportunity to annoy her. Maybe he’d had news about a raid. Genny knew some of the rebels had been growing bolder. It was one of the reasons why her father had insisted that she carry her rifle to market with her, although she kept it out of sight so as not to incite any belligerent Psyrenes. She was just loading the last basket when Madds arrived.

“You’re late.”

“I know! I couldn’t get away from work for my weekly dose of ego deflation. Oh, and I missed getting some of those garlic-stuffed jumbo olives pickled in wine, too… didn’t I.” Madds made a sad face.

“You really like those that much?” Genny asked, surprised. Her father was a virtuoso in the kitchen and was always coming up with new ways of preparing and presenting olives. Genny hadn’t thought highly of the garlic-stuffed, wine-soaked olives, herself. She relished olives and garlic, but she thought the wine was too much. 

“I do, yes. I sent some home to my family as a gift, and they liked them, too. You could probably sell them in boutiques in Diablotin and do well, you know,” Madds smiled. 

“People in Diablotin must be very strange,” Genny observed matter-of-factly. “But that’s good to know, thanks. Maybe I should suggest a small bottling plant to Maman and Papa,” she mused. She turned back to Madds sceptically. “They really have boutiques for olives there?”

Madds laughed. “Olives and just about anything else you can imagine. Although there aren’t any boutiques dedicated _specifically_ to olives, no - at least, none that I know of. There are boutiques for gourmet foods, though – those do well.”

“Do you know - I just happen to have a few of those olives left. They’re here somewhere; I can dig them out if you really want to buy some.” 

“Really? That would be keen.” 

Genny paused. “That means good, right? At least from the context in which it is used on the radio shows, I assume that’s what it means.” 

“You listen to radio shows?! Which ones?” 

“Oh… we all do, but it’s really Andri who picks out which show we’re going to tune in to. No one else can figure out how to operate the receiver he built,” Genny explained as she rummaged through her baskets. “Well, I probably could figure it out, really. I just have better things to do with my time. Andri’s the one who loves machines. Ah! Here we go. How many pots do you want?” She emerged holding two clay pots with the green string that indicated they contained the olives Madds desired. 

“I’ll take both. And it is an expression of grateful approval, yes.” Madds passed her some bills in exchange for the two pots of olives. “Say, do you have to return home right away, or can you stay for a coffee or something before you leave?” 

Genny was taken aback, and her first instinct was to turn him down flatly. But in truth, she was cold, and a hot coffee would go down well before she had to head homewards. “I could, but I don’t want Miel and Carillon to be standing in harness too long. So it’ll have to be quick.” There, she even had a reasonable excuse for leaving very soon indeed if Madds’ seemingly innocuous invitation concealed some ulterior motive. 

“Great,” Madds smiled. “We could go to a café nearby, or to the outpost. Do you have a preference?” 

“Does the outpost have a carriage shed or anything like that for Miel and Carillon? That would be preferable to tying them up in front of a café with no shelter.” 

“Absolutely.” 

“All right, then. Climb aboard while I finish covering everything up.” Genny tugged on the heavy canvas tarp she used to keep the produce dust-free on the long drives to and from Arguvan. Instead of climbing onto the seat, Madds pulled on the tarp on his side of the cart, and helped her settle it in place and tie it down. “Thank you…” Genny wasn’t sure why he was being so helpful and went on her guard. He must have some trick planned, she thought. She drove to the outpost with Madds sitting next to her and inquiring about the farm, all the while waiting for the lieutenant’s plot to materialize. 

Genny felt weird as her cart was challenged by sentries at the gate. Didn’t they recognize their lieutenant beside her? Madds responded to their challenge crisply and the soldiers saluted him before letting them pass through. 

Inside, she looked around the military base with interest. Everything looked neat and orderly. She found herself driving her team on a large, empty, well-swept quadrangle which she assumed was the parade ground; it was surrounded on three sides by buildings, including the gatehouse she had just passed through. The gatehouse extended to either side and housed what she assumed must be offices, and by the savoury scents emanating from a doorway, the kitchen and mess. Down the left side were the living quarters and down the right were stables and equipment sheds. Madds directed her to a carriage shed containing artillery, but with enough space for her horses and cart, too. There were sounds of activity all around, but the only soldiers in sight were a small group near the stables. Judging by the wheelbarrows they were pushing towards the open end of the parade grounds, they were engaged in mucking out stalls. One of them turned to see who had pulled into the parade grounds. “Hey! It’s Deer Slayer!” he called to his companions. Genny turned a glare on Madds. 

Madds adopted an injured expression. “What?! You can’t blame that one on me. They came up with that nickname all on their own.” He then turned back to the offending individual. “Keppler!” he barked sternly, startling Genny. “Show some respect! You will address our guest as Mademoiselle Doucette.” 

Keppler, chastised, halted what he was doing and stood at attention. “Sir! Yes, sir!” 

“Now make yourself useful and come tend to Mademoiselle Doucette’s horses. The rest of you, back to work.” 

“Sir! Yes, sir!” a chorus of voices replied and did as Madds bade. 

“Sorry, Mademoiselle Doucette,” Keppler said as he took the reins from her. She felt the wagon rock a little as Madds climbed down from the passenger’s side. “But thank you for the venison. We had it during the Festival Days. Reminded me of Festival Days with my family.” 

“You’re welcome,” Genny replied, touched. 

“We liked the story about Lieutenant Falgout missing his target, too,” Keppler added with a cautious glance at Madds who was now standing beside the cart and holding his hand up in a courtly manner to help Genny down. 

“Eh?” Madds grunted. “Nobody’s perfect. But we ought all to strive to be. Now, back to work, Keppler.” The soldier tied the reins as Genny took the lieutenant’s hand, thinking all the while how ridiculous it was – she wasn’t in a skirt and was in no danger of tripping or falling as she stepped down from the driver’s seat. But it would have been rude to refuse him, she thought. 

“You told them about the hunt? “ Genny asked as he guided her towards the mess. “Why?” 

Madds smiled at her. “They were grumbling about having to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and sight in their rifles again; it was a good story for reinforcing why we must make sure our equipment is in peak condition at all times.” 

“So you’re blaming your equipment, and not yourself?” Genny smiled. 

“My dear Mademoiselle Doucette, you are not a soldier, so I will forgive you your ignorance. Our equipment is an extension of ourselves. Our lives may, literally, depend on its smooth function someday. So, to blame my equipment is to blame myself. Do you see?” 

“My dear Lieutenant Falgout,” Genny did her best imitation of his rather snooty tone. “I do see, and understand. I thank you for enlightening me in the Way of the Soldier.” 

“Do I really sound like that?" 

“Sometimes,” Genny giggled. 

“You giggled. I’ve never heard you giggle. So there is a girl after all, buried in there, somewhere deep.” 

“You’ve only just begun to plumb the shallowest of my depths, Lieutenant Falgout.” Genny realized that what she said could be – and would be, considering who her audience was - misinterpreted a moment too late. She tensed up and turned bright red. “I didn’t mean it like that!” 

Madds laughed at her discomfiture as he opened the door to the building and gestured for her to enter. “Of course not,” he reassured her. “You’re only here for coffee.” 

Genny nodded, still flustered. “Coffee and conversation. So… you listen to radio shows, too?” 

“Absolutely! Here, the officers’ mess is just down this way. Not that there are many of us here – just me and my second-lieutenants. But it’s smaller and more home-like than the enlisted ranks’ mess.” Madds opened the door for her and ushered her into a pleasant little dining room, decorated with a dozen portraits of men and women with stern expressions wearing military regalia. Some were quite old – actual paintings. She recognized Emperor Marl in one of the more recent photographs, and assumed that the rest must be historic Emperors and Empresses. Madds noticed her interest. “Ah, yes – our noble leaders, past and present. They’re here to remind us what we enlisted for. You’d think they’d look a little happier about having all of us willing to fight and die for them, wouldn’t you?” 

“You’re not really here for one man alone. He represents all of us, and the world and the society we’ve built together, doesn’t he? You’re here to protect that, and your family. Your sisters and nieces and nephews, your parents. And also families like mine.” Genny turned to Madds, who was just standing there in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, watching her. “So, thank you,” she said quietly, respectfully. 

“You’re welcome. And now I should get some coffee for us. And then let’s talk radio shows, eh?” He smiled, but his blue eyes looked solemn. 

Genny smiled back. “Sure.” 

~~~ 

“Oliver Slick is totally a Psyrene spy,” Madds laughed. “I mean, could they have made it more obvious? He was even described as having olive-coloured skin and slicked-back black hair. And the other characters always see him twirling his moustache while he thinks. Only villains do that.”

“Maybe he’s a loyal Psyrene,” Genny insisted, “and they just want you to assume the obvious. Why would he be helping to investigate a murder he committed? Seems foolish and risky to me.” They were discussing the radio show _Agents of Silence_ , a serial about the thrilling adventures of an elite group of spies in the service of the Empire. Slick was the newest character to have been introduced, and had joined the rest of the team as they were investigating the murder of a noblewoman rumoured to have had close ties to the Emperor. It was a good show, with lots of cliffhanger endings. Genny had discovered that Madds also enjoyed _The Way of the Reel_ and _Something Dark and Strange_. 

“We’ll see,” Madds remained sceptical. “Oh, hey, speaking of _Agents of Silence_ – it’s almost time! Would you like to stay to listen to it?” 

Genny was horrified and jumped to her feet. “Is it really five o’clock already?! I’ve got to go! Miel and Carillon must be cold and getting stiff.” She’d meant to leave them for a half hour maximum, and here it had been over an hour since she had joined Madds for coffee. Where had the time gone? “Maman and Papa will be worried when I’m not home by six-thirty.” 

“Oh, come on. You’re a young woman – surely you don’t have a curfew still.” 

Genny’s temper flared. “It’s not a curfew; it’s courtesy. I’m usually home from market by six; six-thirty when I stop for a swim or maybe have some trouble along the way. I’ve always been responsible and my parents trust me because of that. So if I’m not home when they expect me, they will assume something really bad has happened – and with the rebels becoming bolder they’ll really be worried. Aside from that, my horses-“ 

“All right, all right. I’m sorry I even made the suggestion. Come on, I’ll see you out.” 

Genny followed Madds quietly out of the officers’ mess. The line of his shoulders was stiff; she thought that if she touched him, all his muscles would feel rock-hard with tension. She wondered what she’d done to upset him. 

She thought about the times she’d seen him interacting with his soldiers. He was the highest-ranking officer here, and commanded a good deal of respect. Even when he was being friendly with the men and women who served under him, she’d never seen him as their actual _friend_. Even when he’d told his soldiers the story about their deer hunt, he’d done so with a lesson in mind. 

Contrast that with the past hour she’d spent with him: he’d been laughing, enthusiastic, waxing about his favourite characters and his speculations about the plotlines to come. He’d been genuine, he’d been relaxed; their conversation had flowed from one topic to another seamlessly. She remembered civilian clothes and _do me a favour today, and don’t call me Lieutenant_. He didn’t have to be anyone’s commanding officer with her. _She_ was his friend. 

“Madds?” she tried, after backing her horses out of the carriage shed and settling herself into the driver’s seat. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon. I’ll explain to my parents to expect me a little later on market days from now on. I have a friend in Arguvan whom I’d like to visit with, when he’s able.” 

Madds looked up at her and beamed, blue eyes sparkling. The tension melted from his shoulders. “Keen. I’ll see you next week, Mademoiselle Doucette. Maybe we can tune in to _Agents of Silence_ together.” 

“Maybe. But only if you call me Genny. Walk on, Miel. Walk on, Carillon.” The horses’ heavy hooves echoed loudly as she drove out of the parade ground, empty now of all human life save Madds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I imagine "The Way of the Reel" is a sort of comedy show about a stereotypically prude, religious female priest of the Way of the Wheel who was somehow talent-scouted from a religious choral presentation, and is now navigating the ins-and-outs of the moving picture business and destined to make it big.
> 
> And "Something Dark and Strange" is a drama/suspense serial about a squad of Imperial Guards who specialize in investigating the strange; their plots usually involve working with and/or investigating minority groups such as Outsiders, Cosovode, Church of the Serpent and Shadar-kai. (It might be a little bit like X-files, maybe.)


	5. The Underemployed Philosophers' Club

“Do you see that cloud? Don’t you think it looks like a dragon?” 

“No… I think it looks more like a goat.”  


“You would, goat-girl,” Madds laughed.  


They were taking a break from their walk, lying down on a grassy patch on a bluff overlooking Arguvan in Third-month. Spring was still a few weeks away, but the days were noticeably longer.  


“Do you ever wonder how it is that two people can look at the same thing, yet see something completely different?” Genny mused aloud, staring into the blue, blue sky.  


Madds’ voice grew slightly louder in her right ear; he’d turned his head toward her. “Like you seeing a goat, while I see a dragon? That’s pretty obvious, I think – we have different experiences behind us. You grew up raising goats, so you naturally see a goat. I have a brilliant imagination to match the rest of my mind, so I see a dragon.”  


Genny rolled her eyes and sighed, then turned to contemplate Madds. She realized that his eyes were the same startling blue as today's sky, and smiled in spite of his annoying self-assuredness. Now that she knew him better, she was beginning to understand that his smug superiority and brazen self-confidence were mostly affectations; for some reason, he took a perverse pleasure in getting people to react negatively to him. Minimizing her response to him usually helped to rein in his ego. His face was distressingly close to hers, so she inched herself a little further away from him. “And your humble nature is laudable, too,” she commented with a wry twist of her lips. “Seriously, though – have you ever wondered whether any two people ever perceive the same thing in the same way? For example, if I could see through your eyes, would the colour I’ve grown up calling green appear to be blue? Or maybe yellow?”  


Madds smiled and his eyes flashed happily. Genny enjoyed that he would cheerfully engage with her in such philosophical discussions. “Logically, we know that most people have the same structures in the eye, which scientists hypothesise are the structures that allow us to see colours. So it’s probable that your green is also my green. It’s physics, right? Light waves and all that.”  


“Yes, but there’s the brain. Once you get past the physics of light waves being intercepted by receptors in our eyes, the brain has to interpret everything.”  


“So my brain might interpret light with the – I don’t remember what the exact measurement is – but the wavelength that indicates green as something unlike that which your brain interprets, you think?”  


Genny nodded, excited by the prospect. “I wish there was a way to know for sure. Don’t you think it would be interesting to borrow someone else’s eyes and brain for a bit, discover how they see the world?”  


“So you’re saying you’d like to possess someone?” Madds teased.  


“You know, I’m not really sure that would work. Say I were able to possess someone – would it be their brain interpreting what we see, or mine?”  


“I think it would have to be theirs, wouldn’t it? Your brain wouldn’t physically be occupying their cranium. It’d just be your spirit, borrowing their meat. Wouldn’t it?”  


Genny rolled fully onto her side and eyed Madds briefly as she propped her head up on her bent arm. “I wouldn’t have put it that way,” she concluded. “But yes, I believe you’re right.”  


Madds laughed, then grew a little more serious. “Have you ever wondered how much of who we are is rooted in the present, and how much in one of our past lives? I wonder about that all the time. Like, how much of me is really me, and how much is some man or woman who died centuries ago? Recycled souls… makes me a little uncomfortable. How about you?”  


“I don’t know. I haven’t really given much thought to it, to be honest.” Genny scrutinized Madds for a moment, trying to imagine him as a woman who lived centuries ago, perhaps his ancestress the Empress Raya wearing one of those stiff dresses with all the boning in them, and the upright lace collar. She couldn’t get it to work. “I think it might actually be a little comforting for me to think that some of me is someone who lived centuries ago. Maybe that part of me helps me in ways I can’t even begin to fathom. Like having a wise old woman living in my subconscious.” She tried softening his features in her imagination, but he still just looked like Madds in a dress. She giggled.  


“What?” Madds asked, looking mildly indignant.  


“I’m trying unsuccessfully to picture you as a woman,” Genny explained. “The best I can manage is you in a dress. It isn’t a pretty sight. Do you really think you would have been a woman in a past life? That you weren’t always a man?”  


“Well… yes. If we’re all reborn six… or seven times, in order to experience as many aspects of life as we can, I must have been other than male in some of my past lives. Otherwise I’d be missing a rather large aspect of being, don’t you think?”  


“I guess so. But maybe there isn’t such a big difference between men and women, either. I mean, other than our biology, we are pretty much the same. I think so, at least.”  


“I think our biology _is_ a huge difference. When my eldest sister was pregnant with my first niece, I remember actually being a little jealous. She was going through something I wouldn’t be able to go through in this lifetime. As weird and uncomfortable as it must be to have a little human growing inside you, I think there’s also something magical about it. I hope that in one of my lives, my spirit was, or will be, female and had, or will have, a baby. I think I’d feel a little cheated if, at the end of all my lives when I’m being judged and about to be sent to the Centre or the Void, I never got to experience that at least once.”  


“That’s fair,” Genny replied after some thought. “But if we’re supposed to experience as many aspects of life as we can over the course of all our reincarnations, don’t you think we’d have to be elves at some point? Male and female elves, even? What about animals? We should be animals, too, to experience that aspect of life. If the Way of the Wheel is right, we would actually need a lot more than six or seven reincarnations.”  


Madds chuckled. “The Way of the Wheel specifically says we’re to ‘experience as many aspects of life as we can’ within the allotted spans of six (or seven) lives. You’re interpreting it too broadly, I think.”  


Genny shrugged. “I don’t know much about the Church of Serpent, but I think they also believe in reincarnation, don’t they? Only I’ve never heard that there’s a limitation on their number of rebirths. It doesn’t seem fair that if you follow the Way of the Wheel, you get maybe seven tries, but if you follow Serpent, it’s unlimited. Then there’s the Cosovode – they believe something else entirely. And I bet the kobolds in the north have another belief system, too. I wonder whose is right?”  


Madds looked rather pained. “You don’t really think kobolds and their ilk know more about metaphysics than us, do you?”  


“Well, I’ve never spoken to a kobold, so I can’t really say. Madds, how is it possible for there to be multiple systems of belief, and for all of them to be right? Or do you think there is only one universal truth, and only one of our religions has it right - or maybe none of the sentient races know it? Or if they did know it, they forgot it long ago.”  


“I don’t know. I think that’s one question we will only ever be able to speculate on. But it’s getting late,” Madds continued, pushing himself up off the ground and offering Genny a hand up. “We should head back to the base so you can get your horses and head homewards.” He looked as disappointed as she felt.  


Genny took his hand and with his assistance clambered to her own two feet. She was struck again by the warmth and strength of his grip, and almost forgot to let him go. She caught a ghost of a smile on his features as she passed him the canteen they’d shared on their walk.  


“Thanks,” he said, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, then offering it once more to Genny.  


“Oh no you don’t! I’m not thirsty enough to carry it back to town.” Madds had made up the silly rule that the last person to drink from the canteen had to carry it until the next hydration break. As a result, Genny had carried it for most of the way up the hill.  


“Suit yourself, but if you get thirsty I shan’t be held responsible.”  


“You are such a little boy,” Genny complained, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her exasperation as she and Madds began striding back down the bluff.  


“It’s true. Between my mother and my sisters, I never did have the chance to grow up properly. I really just started once I began officer school, so I’ve a lot of catching up to do.”  


“My parents would whip you into shape. There isn’t really room for irresponsible deadweights on our farm.”  


“What are they like, your parents?” Madds inquired.  


Genny paused briefly, trying to put her jumble of thoughts about her parents in order. “They’re great,” she replied. “Papa is tall and built like a barrel; they say he must have some Bear blood in him, not just Wolf. He’s very gentle, though. You should see how he grafts scions onto rootstock – he has a very light touch. His favourite things to do when he isn’t working on the trees include cooking, reading the newspapers, and smoking his pipe. Maman is also tall… I was doubly cursed. But that’s as far as our resemblance goes. She’s beautiful. More than that though, she’s brilliant. Both of them are. She’s driven, too. But she is very kind to all our animals, very careful when she milks the does or shears any of the goats. She loves spinning and dyeing the wool, and knitting.  


“You know our discussions? That’s small talk at home. Once or twice my friends have stayed over and they always tell me that my family has the weirdest dinner conversations… Maybe that’s why they stopped coming. I really only see them at Festival Days or on Coronation Day.  


“Maman and Papa have an immense library; since we were old enough to read, Andri and I have had access to nearly everything. They kept some books back until we were old enough to understand, at least in theory, what they were about. But mostly we were able to read anything we wanted.” Genny paused, wondering if she was nattering on too much, but Madds seemed like he was still listening. “What about your parents? What are they like? I suppose they must be busy at court much of the time.”  


“What? Ha, no. Neither of my parents are courtiers. They own a textile factory; that keeps them busy enough.” Genny was puzzled and must have looked it, because Madds continued. “The Falgouts are a big family; Emperor Marl can’t possibly employ us all. Aside from that, not everyone _wants_ to be a courtier, you know. I certainly wouldn’t. It’s tedious business, for the most part. And for all the power and authority we grant to our heads of state, they’re still only human, with human foibles and flaws. I’m much happier serving the Emperor at a distance here in Psyra than I would be in his court.  


“At any rate, we’re a lesser branch of the Falgouts. We don’t even live in the Grand. My father is the youngest child of a youngest child; it goes back quite a few generations. So, to be completely honest with you, although we might have had an Imperial ancestor centuries ago, my nuclear family isn’t titled, and we have little in the way of property. It was always a little embittering to visit my relatives on their country estates. It’s rather hard to be looked down upon by your cousins.  


“Helen will inherit the factory, if she wants it. The rest of us have to strike out on our own. And sometimes we 'noble' little sons and daughters really _do_ strike out, if you know what I mean. But I won’t. That’s why I’m here. Career military officer. Well, I’m good at it, and I like seeing new places, so why not? There are worse ways to spend a life.”  


Genny nodded thoughtfully. Madds’ personality was such that it was hard not to conceive of him as a spoiled little rich boy who had joined the army on a lark. But appearances could be very deceiving indeed, Genny was learning. “I think I like you even better now.”  


Madds laughed. “Why? Because I am out of necessity a self-made man? Or for some other, more obscure Genny reason?”  


“I don’t know. You just seem more real, somehow.”  


“Of course I’m real. As real as you are, anyway. You are a strange bird, Genny. But I suppose that’s one of the things I like about you. You’re not like other girls.”  


Genny felt suddenly a little queasy. _It will take a special kind of person to appreciate your particular qualities, Genny my love_. That’s what her mother had always said, for as long as Genny could remember. But Madds? _Don’t waste your time on a soldier, Genny,_ she’d also said, ever since Genny’s menarche. _They never stick around for very long._  


No, she was reading too much into his words. Madds just needed a friend. And so did she. She wasn’t ready for more than friendship, anyway. “So, Madds, do you think we have time to talk about who defines good and evil before we get back to town?”  


Madds cracked up. “You’re relentless, aren’t you? You and I will just have to start a club or something. We’ll call it The Underemployed Philosophers' Club, maybe.”  


“I thought you liked your work?”  


“I do; I was thinking more of you.”  


“We’ve been over this! I love farming! And it gives me plenty of time to think about these sorts of questions. Without which, I would not be as stimulating a conversationalist for you.”  


“Oh, did you hear that? That sounded eerily like something I’d say. I believe my overweening confidence is starting to rub off on you, Genny. About time, too…”


	6. Minor Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is now complete! A few more paragraphs have been added to the end. Thanks go to Measured_Words for her encouragement. :)

It was the middle of Fourth-month, and for most of the day, a light rain had freshened the air. But now the sun was out, and Genny was hanging on the metal gate to the Doucette farm’s laneway, breathing in the delicious scent of spring, when Madds arrived. Carefully avoiding a puddle as she jumped down, she proceeded to unlock the gate and swing it open so he could ride through. There had been a time when she needn’t ever have closed, let alone locked the gate, but that time was in the past. “Madds!” she greeted him with a smile as he dismounted from Khalif. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Her words were carefully chosen. She had finally mentioned her friendship with Madds to her parents, and Maman had insisted she invite him for dinner. Tonight was the appointed night, but due to the nature of his work, he hadn’t been able to promise that he’d be able to come. The fact of his arrival was both exciting and nerve-wracking. Even though she knew now that he didn’t grow up in the richest neighbourhood in Diablotin, Genny worried that her family’s home might seem small and rustic to him.

“I’m glad I could make it. I’m curious to meet everyone I’ve been hearing so much about,” Madds replied.

“It’s a bit of a walk to our house – you probably could have stayed mounted,” Genny threw over her shoulder as she closed and locked the gate behind them. “You’ll just get your uniform muddy, walking on your own two feet.”

“And if I don’t, I’ll tower over you. That’s hardly gentlemanly.”

“They’re all expecting a jackass, anyway,” Genny teased.

“Is that so? I guess I shall have to disappoint them.” Having already sorted out Khalif’s reins, Madds offered Genny his elbow. She stared at it for a moment before realizing he meant to escort her to the house. 

She lifted her hand and rested it uncertainly on his forearm. “Like this?” she asked.

Madds’ lips curved up in a fond smile. “Like that,” he agreed. Then his smile widened into a grin. “So you rustic peasants _can_ be taught.”

Genny glared her disapproval and elbowed him sharply in the ribs, eliciting a chuckle as he tried to dodge out of the way, which nearly spooked Khalif. “No horseplay!” he laughed before all three members of their little procession returned to some semblance of decorum.

“So, how was work today?”

“Wearing… There was a train robbed in Kirikkale. Lots of dispatches coming through. But nothing I can do much about here in Arguvan, and more importantly, nothing you need to worry about. How was your day?”

“Wearing, but for an entirely different reason. It’s kidding season so I was up a good portion of the night with Lazuli. She had twins just before sunrise. Then there’s all the usual chores to be done before I could get any sleep.”

“You must need a good sense of humour for kidding season,” Madds suggested innocently. Genny groaned.

They hadn’t gone far before Genny spied Andri walking towards them. Even from this distance, she could see his white teeth split his tanned face with a smile as he raised his hand in a languorous wave and picked up his pace. Self-conscious, she barely managed to restrain her reflexive instinct to pull away from Madds as her little brother approached them. What would Andri think of the picture she and Madds painted? It must look ridiculous – the tall, handsome man escorting an ugly giantess. Then Genny chided herself for thinking so poorly of Andri. Her little brother had always been her staunchest supporter and her best friend.

“Lieutenant Falgout! Hello, and welcome to our farm. I’m Andri,” Andri introduced himself as if there could be any doubt about his identity and held out his hand to Madds, who freed his from the reins long enough to clasp Andri’s in a firm shake. Genny could see Andri’s eyes light up with pride. He was only sixteen, so to be greeted in such an adult fashion by a military officer obviously made a big impression on him. “I’m so glad you could make it, sir! Maman and Papa have been driving us crazy with preparations. You’d think you were the emperor himself come to visit.”

Madds laughed and picked up Khalif’s reins once more. “Didn’t you explain to them that I’m noble only by virtue of theoretically carrying a tiny fraction of Empress Raya’s blood within my veins?” he asked Genny. She shrugged.

“They’re excited for news from Diablotin, since they grew up there. As much as they love our life out here, I do think sometimes they miss the city,”Andri suggested.

“I haven’t been to Diablotin myself for nearly a year, so I’m afraid I won’t have much news that they couldn’t already have heard on your radio, Andri,” Madds replied. Genny could practically see Andri’s chest puff up with even more pride that Madds knew about his home-built radio and speakers.

“Well, that’s more recent than _their_ last visit,” Genny supplied. “The farm doesn’t really allow for us to go on holiday. Although now that Andri and I are grown, I think we could manage it on our own for a few weeks, if they did want to take a vacation.” 

Andri nodded rather gravely. “We’ve suggested it to them, even – but they won’t go, not with the current unrest. But you probably know a lot more about that than I do, Lieutenant! I hope you’ll tell me all about the military. I’m very keen to hear about it from one who has experienced it firsthand!”

“That’s right – you’re a scholar of military history as well as electronic engineering, Genny mentioned. I’d be happy to tell you what I can, though of course, there are some things I am not at liberty to discuss with non-military personnel.”

Andri’s eyes widened with excitement and curiosity. “Of course! I could be a spy. I’m not – but I understand you have to be careful, sir. Say, would you like me to take your horse? I’ll see to his needs if you’d just like to go to the house and get cleaned up after your long ride.”

“Thank you very much. His name is Khalif. One scoop of oats, if you have them, and a couple flakes of hay is his usual ration. If you don’t have oats then three flakes of hay will do.” 

“We have oats!” Andri replied almost indignantly. Genny smiled as Madds liberated his rifle and saddlebags, then handed over Khalif’s reins.

“Maman probably instructed him to take your horse; he doesn’t do that for me when I come home from the market…” Genny grumbled in a good-natured way once Andri was out of earshot. 

She and Madds chatted amiably and ambled along past planted groves of trees for another ten minutes or so until the house came into view. It was typical of the area; a square bungalow with a wraparound porch and a terracotta tile roof. It had been a few years since its last coat of whitewash, so the stucco walls had darkened to the creamy colour of the surrounding limestone outcrops. A flower garden bordered the stepping stone path that passed under Genny’s oak tree, spreading out to echo the edges of the porch. At this time of year, only the earliest flowers were blooming, but many green things were bursting forth anew from their winter’s sleep. 

The herd dogs sprang out from their shaded sanctuary under the porch to bark a greeting to Genny and a warning to the stranger who was accompanying her. “Whoa, whoa Lucca! Whoa, Halla! Down!” Chastised, the exuberant beasts left off jumping up at Genny and ramming their muzzles into Madds’ groin. “Sorry… we don’t often get visitors. But at least we know they’re good guard dogs…” Genny apologized, flustered.

“It’s quite all right,” Madds laughed. “I am fond of dogs, and familiar with their ways.”

Just then, Genny’s parents appeared in the doorway. After another round of introductions, Genny was instructed to show Madds around the house while Papa finished cooking supper and Maman got the table ready. 

“I’ll show you to your room first, so you can wash up.” She led him to the guest room which only rarely was used in such a way. Her heart was in her throat; she wasn’t sure why it was so important that her family’s home should meet with Madds’ approval. The guest room was, she thought, comfortable enough. Armchair by the window, mirror, washstand, chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a bed big enough for two, covered with a quilt her mother had made ages ago out of clothing she and Andri had outgrown. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Genny collected the pitcher from the washstand as Madds set his saddlebags down in the armchair and propped his rifle in a corner of the room. 

Upon her return with warm water for him to wash up, she tapped on his door and nearly dropped the pitcher when he answered the door wearing only his trousers and an undershirt. “Here… water… for you,” she stammered while forcing herself to look only at his face. She could feel her ears and cheeks burning and tried to regroup. “Papa said it will be about another half hour before supper is ready. I’ll be in my room – the second door down on your right – when you’re ready for the rest of the tour.” Madds looked amused by her discomfiture as he thanked her, so she left as quickly as possible.

 _What was that all about?_ she asked herself as she plunked down on her bed. She’d seen her father and Andri and the occasional hired helper in undershirts plenty of times before; there was nothing indecent or even particularly notable about it. _But it’s Madds,_ she answered herself. _Madds is different. Different how?_ She thought about it, confused and uncomfortable, until she heard the tap on her door. Madds was fully dressed again, this time in civilian clothes, but she couldn’t get that glimpse of his nearly naked torso out of her head for the rest of the tour and well into the meal. 

Papa had outdone himself with curried goat, sautéed wild spring greens that she and Andri had collected that afternoon, and rice cooked with beans. Maman outdid herself by being a very gracious hostess and not relating any embarrassing stories about Genny to Madds (so far). Andri outdid himself by asking interesting questions about Madds, Madds’ family, Diablotin and life in Diablotin – she wasn’t sure how much he (or Madds) actually managed to eat, with all the questions Andri was asking and Madds was answering. Madds outdid himself by not being a jackass. For her part, Genny mostly remained quiet, listening to everyone else and watching their interactions. By the time dessert was served, she found she was actually relaxing and enjoying herself.

“So, lad, what can you tell us about these bandits, then?” her father’s deep, rumbling voice rolled out over the dining room as Genny took her first tangy bite of goat cheese cake flavoured with honey and pistachios.

“Probably not much more than what you’ve heard on the radio, sir,” Madds replied. “There are lots of little raids all over the former kingdom. They seem to be increasing in frequency but there still isn’t really any way to predict when or where the next one will take place. If they always targeted the same types of freight we might get somewhere. As it is, I have a feeling we’ll see Aveyronnais troops escorting every train travelling through Psyra, Korytsa, and Tyros pretty soon.”

“Why don’t you just strike pre-emptively?” Andri asked. “Surely that would stop them.”

“It’s just not that easy. They’re small cells and they know their land intimately. By the time our troops get to a robbery site the bandits are usually long gone with whatever they wanted. We just don’t have much hope of finding a small group of people determined not to be found in all the karst terrain around here. Occasionally our troops have captured a handful of bandits red-handed, but it’s only ever been a handful. There’s no single base of operations which we could attack and cripple them by doing so.”

“Such an attack might also make things worse, mightn’t it?” Genny asked. “I mean… the bandits aren’t legally a nation in and of themselves, but if they were, Aveyronnais troops attacking them would be a pretty clear act of war, wouldn’t it?”

Madds slid his glance over to Genny. “Mmm-hmm,” he replied noncommittally. “It’s possible. And it’s important that we not appear to be the aggressors.”

“Politics,” Maman shook her head and sighed. “Around here, though, there hasn’t been much bandit activity, has there?”

“No, ma’am. We’re out patrolling constantly,” Madds reassured her confidently. “And we’ve no reason to believe there’s an active cell of bandits near Arguvan.”

“Why not?” Andri asked, seeming a bit aggrieved. “I mean, we’ve got lots of farms, lots of food the bandits could use, no doubt.”

Genny thought that if he was old enough, he’d probably join the military because he seemed to think chasing down and fighting bandits would be a terribly exciting adventure. “Andri, don’t be a goose. I’m just as glad they haven’t seen fit to bother us at all. At any rate, guns don’t grow on trees, and I suspect they’re after those rather more than food right now.”

“There’s a relatively high density of Aveyronnais settlers such as yourselves in this area. Collectively you own a large land base; there might not be any good places for bandits to hide because of that,” Madds suggested.

“Well, and give yourself some credit, too, Lieutenant. We’d have been fools to come to Psyra and settle somewhere far from a military base,” Papa added. “Tiphaigne and I chose this location for the outpost as much as the arable land. We’ve nothing to fear from bandits when we’ve got fully trained Imperial soldiers at our backs, eh?” Madds smiled – a little bashfully, Genny thought, which was curiously endearing.

“Would you care for some coffee, Lieutenant Falgout?” Maman asked.

“Or would you prefer a smoke and brandy in the study?” Papa suggested. “We could discuss the situation in Arguvan more in depth-“

“Oh, let me come too, please!” Andri broke in.

“Might I remind you, Alonce and Andri, that Lieutenant Falgout is _Genny’s_ guest? I think you’ve both commanded his attention for quite long enough this evening. Andri, you’ll help me clear the table and wash up the dishes. Genny’s excused, tonight. Alonce, darling, before settling into the study, could you please check if any of the does are showing signs of kidding tonight – especially Peridot. She’s about due. It’s my night to play midwife and I’ll need to get things ready. Lieutenant Falgout, please don’t let my men bully you into something you might not feel especially inclined to do.”

Madds flashed one of his most charming smiles. “Coffee sounds perfect, Madame Doucette. It’s been a long day.” He turned to Papa. “After coffee and a walk, brandy might be just the thing, Monsieur Doucette.”

“I’ll be done my chores by then, so I can join you! If that’s all right, Papa?” Andri begged.

Genny was relieved when she and Madds finally escaped the dining room after coffee. “I hope they aren’t too overwhelming,” she apologized. “We don’t get many visitors. And they’ve taken a liking to you.”

“Yes, I did get that impression,” Madds replied with a wry grin. “It’s fine. All the clamouring for attention makes me miss my family a little, though. How about you, Genny? You were pretty quiet for most of the meal.”

Genny shrugged. “I was just thinking about things. So, where would you like to walk, Madds?” 

Madds raised an eyebrow at her, by which she knew he knew that she wasn’t saying everything. She was grateful when he chose not to pursue it. How could she tell him she was just really happy that he fit in so well and that her family liked him? “I thought I’d check on Khalif, if that’s all right. Not that I don’t trust your brother to have tended him properly. I just always check on him before the end of the day. It’s become something of a ritual.”

“All right. That won’t take long, though. Afterwards, we could walk up through the orchards a bit, if you like. There’s a spot I know of where we’ll get a great view of the sunset.”

“Ooooh – we’re going to watch the sunset together? Genny, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get all romantic on me.”

“I- no. I just thought it would be relaxing and- oh, never mind. You’re the guest. You decide.”

“Hmmm. I know! Let’s go watch the sunset together.” 

Genny rolled her eyes and issued a long-suffering sigh. “I will never understand why I enjoy spending time with you. I must be a masochist.”

“It’s my roguish charm. Wears even the most stiff-necked, prudish Reverend Mother down eventually.”

“And you’ve personally worn down enough stiff-necked, prudish Reverend Mothers to substantiate such a sweeping claim?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve met more than you, anyway.”

“It’s hard to keep the jackass bottled up, isn’t it.”

“Terribly.”

“Well I’m glad you were able to hold it in check with my family as long as you did. Although I was beginning to wonder if you had been possessed, or were maybe a doppelganger, or something.”

“So that’s what you were thinking about over supper, eh? I knew I’d weasel it out of you eventually.”

“Yes. That’s it. Exactly. Here’s the stables. Do what you need to do.” Genny opened the door for Madds and distributed nose-rubs to Miel, Carillon, and Jonquil while Madds assured himself that Khalif was comfortable. “We used to leave them out in the pasture at night, but Maman and Papa decided that might not be wise anymore,” Genny mentioned to Madds as they were leaving. “Although if Psyrenes did want to come and steal our horses, I can’t think of a better favour we could do them than to keep the horses crowded together in one central location, instead of running loose in several fenced acres.” She locked the stable door behind her. “Just bring someone with lockpicks and they’re here for the taking.”

“Ah, but those guard dogs of yours would alert you to any strangers, this close to the house.”

“And we all have guns.”

“And you all have guns,” Madds agreed. “And if the rest of your family is as good a marksman as you, then you probably don’t need to worry about anyone getting away with your horses. The bandits haven’t been taking horses, anyway.”

“And you’re not far away.”

“Not too far, no. What’s that lovely smell?”

“The orange blossoms. I’ve seen some of the patrols come by. You’re sending them out more often, aren’t you?” 

“Or you might just be noticing them more. I’m afraid the patrol schedule is one of those things I’m not at liberty to discuss, Genny.”

“I suppose not. Madds…?”

“Yes, Genny?”

“Are you going to have to go, soon? I just hear all the news reports on the radio, and the things you were discussing tonight, and I know the situation is getting worse, even if nothing much happens here.”

“Well, that’s another one of those things I can’t really discuss, Genny. Right now, I’m here - so let’s enjoy the time we have, eh?”

Genny nodded, then slipped her hand into Madds’, ready for him to pull away but he didn’t. Heart in her throat, she barely managed to whisper “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone, Madds.”

Madds squeezed her hand gently, sending her pulse inexplicably bounding. “I’ll miss you, too, Genny.” 

They walked quietly, hand in hand, until they arrived at the sunset-viewing spot. The sky, having been washed clean of dust by the day’s rain, was not as spectacular as it sometimes could be, but it was spectacular enough – clear and orange deepening to pink, then lavender and blue. Genny settled on a limestone boulder, sharp edges worn smooth by years of exposure to the elements, and Madds sat next to her. He sent her pulse skittering anew as he wrapped one long arm about her shoulders and pulled her into a comfortable half-embrace. “Your hair’s gorgeous in this light – all aflame like the sky itself.”

Surprised, Genny nearly pulled away. “I- thank you.” She could feel her ears and cheeks burning again as she turned just enough to get a good look at Madds’ face. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that in addition to being a biologist and a philosopher, you’ve also got a poet’s heart.”

Madds flashed her his trademark grin. “It comes and goes.”

Everything Genny had been feeling all evening now crystallized into one coherent thought. “Madds… I’d like to have sex with you.” She blurted out, then blushed furiously, realizing too late how clinical that must sound. “I mean… I’d like you to be my first… sexual partner. Lover?” None of the words seemed quite right. She tried again, frustrated with her lack of vocabulary. “I just want to be with you that way, at least once before you have to go. No strings attached.” Madds looked floored. Of course. She was ugly and awkward – a man-thing - and not at all like the girls he must have been used to back in Diablotin. Perhaps it was rather a lot to ask. “But if you can’t, or would rather not – that’s all right. I understand. We can pretend the last two minutes never happened.” Genny turned her gaze down towards her hands, mortified and anxious that she’d overstepped the boundaries of their friendship. It seemed like an eternity before she heard the whisper of Madds' shirt as he leaned towards her; his hands settled on her shoulders as she felt his lips gently brush her forehead.

“It seems I’m not the only one who’s full of surprises. I’ll book a room at the inn in Arguvan next market day. We’ll have supper together, make it special.”

Relief and dread washed over Genny simultaneously and she snapped her gaze back upwards. Madds’ face was very close, but such proximity no longer engendered discomfort. “No! I don’t want to wait that long. Please, Madds – I know myself. I don’t want to spend all week fretting about it, like I did when I invited you for the deer hunt, maybe losing my nerve. I just want it to be natural, like it was for Miel when we took her to be bred. She and the stallion were just playful with each other for a bit, like us with our conversations, and then he mounted her – I want it to be just like that-“

“Genny!” Madds’ expression could only be read as pained disgust. “For the love of all that’s good, please don’t compare us to animals. That’s about as sexy as being doused with a bucket of cold water.”

Genny felt the tears spring into her eyes and she jumped up from the rock, feeling angry and ashamed and confused. “We ARE animals, you jackass!”

“No, we aren’t. Well - yes, we are – but we’re animals that think and feel. Look, Genny – I’m not some stud that mindlessly services mindless women-“

“Well you could have fooled me with all your posturing and innuendo! And if you actually knew anything about animals, you’d know they’re not mindless! They have feelings, too.”

“Void! I thought you knew I don’t really mean anything by it. It’s just me poking fun at the world, and if my having fun grates on you so very MUCH, why the void do you keep coming back for more?”

“I don’t know!” Genny sobbed. “And if you think I’m so contemptible, why did you come on the hunting trip? Why did you invite me for coffee? Why did you come for supper with my family?”

“Wolf’s balls! I’m not saying you’re contemptible, Genny! Don’t put words in my mouth-“

“Don’t put words in mine! I was only trying to explain why I don’t want to wait!”

“By comparing yourself to livestock?! Look, I get that this is a whole new world for you, so I was just trying to give you some friendly advice-”

“It might have been advice, but it certainly wasn’t very _friendly_!” Hurt to the core of her being, Genny fled.

She wasn’t sure how far she had gone when she stopped – far enough that she couldn’t hear or see Madds, anyway. Which is what she wanted as she cried her eyes out. Madds had ruined everything. And how was she going to go back to the house where he had to stay the night because it was getting dark now and his ride back to Arguvan would not be possible until the morning? She didn’t think she could bear to look at him, let alone pretend that they hadn’t fought. Everyone in her family would know. She didn’t want to see them either. She had always felt like an outcast but right now, she felt more like an outcast than ever before.

In a lifetime of witnessing the farm animals mating, and - once she was old enough - reading stories about people making love, there had been only one instance she could remember that had made her feel like perhaps she did understand what all those writers were talking about, after all. That had been when she went with her father to have Miel bred to a local stallion. In the six years since, whenever she thought of sex, or maybe of having sex herself someday, she had thought of Miel and the stallion. It had been the only way she could imagine copulation as something that might possibly be pleasant. The bitches had always looked so ashamed as the dogs pumped away at their hindquarters; the queens had always screamed when the toms penetrated them and withdrew; and the goat bucks had such grotesquely large testicles and had always smelled so rank… Genny shuddered, thinking about it all.

She had never even come close to telling anyone about her… fantasy, she supposed was the right word, until Madds. And his reaction had just reinforced everything she’d always picked up from everyone she had ever met: she was weird. She was a deviant. She didn’t fit in.

She heard Madds before she saw him, but he was too close for her to soundlessly slip away. “Genny? Genny, is that you?”

“I wish I could say no.”

“Heh… Is it all right if I come talk to you?”

“Even if I say no, you will anyway.”

“Probably, yes.” She watched his shadowy figure come closer. He stopped a couple feet away from her. “I really am a jackass, aren’t I?”

Genny angrily dashed tears from her eyes and tried to think of something suitably vicious to add, but nothing came to mind. “Yes.”

Madds nodded. “Bizarre as it sounds since we are currently in one of the orchards on the farm where you have spent your entire life, it’s sometimes easy to forget you’re a farm girl and you grew up… watching animals. So while I still don’t quite understand why you reacted so strongly, I do understand that I hurt you deeply. I’m sorry.”

Genny glared at Madds through her tears, trying to decide whether telling him would just make her vulnerable to more painful ridicule. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he offered to her. Eventually, she decided that he was genuinely contrite so she took it. Haltingly, alert for any further hint of rejection, she told him about the dogs, the cats, the goats and finally the horses. “They didn’t seem embarrassed, or in pain… or disgusting. What they were doing was just… pure. Pure and powerful and… and joyful. I want to feel that way with you. I want to feel you thrusting into me like a stallion.”

“Now that, that I can get behind... Uh, no horse imagery intended. But thrusting into you, that I can definitely do. Joyfully. Thrusting.” Madds’ voice was husky as he closed the gap between them and ever so solicitously pulled Genny into an embrace.


	7. A Bitter Parting

A cool breeze, the first in weeks, woke Genny up. Late afternoon sunshine was streaming in through the gently billowing sheer curtains, gilding everything it touched. Genny sniffed the air delicately, hoping to detect the scent of rain, but there was no hint of it on the breeze. _More’s the pity_ , Genny thought to herself. It was the middle of Sixth-month, and there had been virtually no rain since Fourth-month. Her family was worried about the crops. _Well, there’s nothing I can do about it._ She turned carefully onto her side so as not to disturb Madds, still asleep beside her. She nestled in close, but not too close – it was too hot – and rested her hand lightly on his left shoulder. She’d been surprised and a little shocked the first time she’d seen the wolf tattoo there; only gang members had tattoos, as far as she had known. Madds had laughed and explained that while he had undergone the painful process as something of a rebellion, he hadn’t rebelled so far as to become a gang member.

It was strange how listening to his regular breaths and contemplating the beauty of the contrast between her pale skin and his tan could be so relaxing. In such moments she could feel perfectly content and at peace with the world. But once he woke up and they got dressed and headed their separate ways – him to the military outpost and her back to the farm – she knew she would feel the creeping discontent once more.

They were lucky now to see each other on market days; she knew that. Rebel attacks had been moving closer since Fourth-month and Madds had been out to respond to reports with his soldiers on several occasions, meaning she had missed seeing him altogether a few times. She worried when she didn’t see him – what if he were injured or killed? She didn’t look forward to market days anymore, because Madds had become something of a “Mainwaring’s Cat” – on any given Sixth-day, he might or might not be in Arguvan. She wouldn’t know until she’d spent the whole morning and early afternoon hoping to see him rounding the corner by Değirmenci’s bakery stall. If he didn’t show up, she’d return home, feeling disappointed the whole way. And if he did show up, she’d get to spend a few hours with him… feeling disappointed the whole time.

The problem was that she missed their old market days together - strolling and having in-depth philosophical discussions. Now when she saw him, they inevitably had a meal together and then had sex. Sex with Madds could not, she thought, be described as bad (although she had absolutely no basis for comparison) and she did enjoy their closeness and the sense of satisfaction she got from being able to do something nice for him. But she just could not get as fired up about it as she could about the deep, intellectual conversations they used to have.

She would have to talk to him about it, she knew. But it would have to wait until the next time they met up in Arguvan. There wasn’t enough time left today.

As if Madds sensed that their afternoon together was winding to a close, he stirred, blue eyes fluttering open. “What time is it?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Going on for six, I’d guess.”

“Mmph.” She felt his lips press against her forehead before he rolled to the other side of the bed and stood up. She watched him reach for his briefs and begin pulling them on before rising to her feet and collecting her own clothes.

Fully dressed, they embraced and said goodbye. “Safe travels,” Madds murmured before letting her go. 

“You, too. Be safe, I mean,” she replied. Genny headed downstairs alone, as usual. Madds would come down a little later, she knew, out of a desire to protect… his own dignity or hers? Maybe both; she wasn’t sure.

She smiled at the innkeeper as she passed him.” _Iyi akşamlar_ ,” she wished him a good evening in Psyrene.

“ _Gerçekten iyi akşamlar, fatihlerin fahişe,_ ” he replied with narrowed eyes and an expression of utter disdain. Genny hurried past him, disturbed. Conqueror’s whore? She was relieved when she got to the livery stable. She waited impatiently as Miel and Carillon were hitched up to her farm wagon, not certain whether every Psyrene face really was looking at her with barely suppressed hostility, or whether she was just imagining things. She couldn’t leave town fast enough, nearly forgetting to press a generous tip into the stable boy’s hand.

She was nearly halfway home when she realized that the cloud formation she had observed on the horizon was actually a column of smoke. She pressed onwards a little further before her growing sense of alarm forced her to a stop. She scanned her surroundings, noting a few more smokes further off in the distance. There had been no lightning for days. There shouldn’t be so many fires springing up in a single afternoon. What to do? Press on homewards or race back to Arguvan as fast as she could? Trying to quell her mounting horror, she turned the horses back toward town and urged them to a canter. 

Plagued by dreadful imaginings, Genny lost track of her surroundings and only noticed the large company of horsemen flying towards her at a gallop when the noise of their many hoofbeats was already pounding at her ears. Terrified that they might be bandits, Genny pulled up sharply on Miel and Carillon, who squealed their discomfort. Then she recognized the uniforms but most especially the horse and rider at the head of the column, and was nearly blinded by her tears of relief. “Madds! There’s fires! I counted eight… One – one’s in the direction of our farm!”

Madds pulled Khalif to a halt near her, signalling one of his second lieutenants to continue on with the troops. Madds’ eyes, usually full of mischief or warmth, now looked grim.

“Genny, one of my scouts returned to the outpost shortly after I did. There’s a large force of bandits in the area. We are going to intercept them, don’t worry-“

“Don’t worry? But – but my family!”

“We’ll take care of them. Genny, you need to continue on to Arguvan-“

“Void, no! I’m coming with you, I have a rifle-“

“ _No_. You are not a trained soldier. You don’t know how to fight in formation. My soldiers will have enough on their hands without having to worry about keeping you safe, too. You will only be in the way.”

“I won’t! I’m a good marksman, ‘Deer Slayer’-“

“I said _no_.”

“I don’t have to listen to you! You’re not my-“

“Genny, do as I say! I don’t have time to argue with you! And if nothing I say can convince you, then for the gods’ sakes, look at your horses. You’ve driven them too hard; they’re blown.” Genny saw that he was right. Their heads were hanging low and their lathered flanks were heaving; she was flooded by an immediate sense of guilt. “The best place for you and them is back in town. Keppler, Vautrin, escort Mademoiselle Doucette back to the outpost, please.” Two passing cavalrymen stopped and manoeuvred their horses next to Genny’s. Madds spurred Khalif back into action, wheeling him gracefully around and into a gallop. Genny’s vision blurred.

Keppler reached out to take Miel’s reins. “Come on, Mademoiselle Doucette. You heard the lieutenant.”

~~~

Genny did not sleep well that night. Her thoughts leapt chaotically from anxiety to resentment to guilt and back. One of the medics offered her a sleeping draught, which she refused. 

She thought of sneaking out and liberating her horses from the stables, making her way home alone in the night, but she knew it would be futile. With armed Psyrenes so close to the outpost, Madds had made sure there was a force left behind to defend it. Genny had seen the sentries on the walls. With the heightened state of alarm there was no guarantee a sentry wouldn’t mistake her for a horse thief and shoot her. Besides, Miel and Carillon could not yet have had sufficient time to recover from her wild flight for help.

So Genny tried to sleep, without much success. As soon as the dawn chorus of birds began, she was up and dressed and down at the stables to check on her horses. They seemed all right, no heat or swelling in their legs that might indicate a strain from the day before, so she groomed them. She had just located her tack and was beginning to harness Carillon when Keppler discovered her.

“Mademoiselle Doucette… What are you doing?”

“Going home.”

“You can’t. Lieutenant Falgout wants you to remain here.”

“He’s back?”

“No… But he put you under our protection.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for your protection. So unless I’m Lieutenant Falgout’s prisoner, you have no business keeping me here.”

“I’ll go see what Second Lieutenant Pellerin has to say.”

In the end, Genny got her way, since no one at the outpost had any legal grounds to keep her there. Second Lieutenant Pellerin, a stern-looking woman of about thirty years, did, however, foist Keppler and Vautrin on her. This made Genny uneasy in case something should happen to them.

The drive home seemed longer than ever before.  


~~~

Genny could see that the gate had been torn asunder and her family’s orchards had been burnt. Acrid smoke still filled the air as she and her escort of two made their way slowly up the farm lane. Genny recognized the bodies of the farm dogs lying in the dirt. Flies were already busy laying eggs, while butterflies lapped at the salt in the dry pools of blood. Tears filled her eyes and she could barely breathe past the lump in her throat. A strong sense of wrongness filled Genny and it was all she could do to keep going, no thanks to Keppler and Vautrin’s attempts to dissuade her. They rounded the last curve in the road before the house, and it was no longer there. Nor was the oak tree she used to climb and do her lessons in. Choking on a cry, Genny stumbled out of the driver’s seat to get a better look at the damage.

“Careful, miss!” Keppler’s hand closed on her shoulder. “There could be hot spots; you could burn your feet.” Genny wrenched herself free of the soldier’s grip and moved inexorably towards the remains of the only home she had ever known. Where could Maman be? And Papa? Andri?

Genny swerved abruptly. The farm buildings, maybe they were still standing? Maybe her family was hidden in the root cellar. Vautrin cursed behind her. Genny didn’t have to go far to see that the stables, the dairy barn, the root cellar, the pickling shed – everything – was gone. 

“Maman!” She screamed, straining to hear an answer that was not forthcoming. “Papa! Where are you? Andri, oh gods, Andri?!” 

She felt a hand close on her shoulder again and nearly knocked Keppler aside. “Help me find them. You have to help me find them.” She and the soldiers began a quick search of the smouldering ruins, as best they could without putting themselves in harm’s way, anyway. Nothing. No one to be found.

“The blind! Maybe they fled to the valley? Please, can one of you go check?” Vautrin nodded his assent; Genny gave him directions. As he rode away she remembered the deer hunt in the fall, and Keppler thanking her. “That’s where we got the venison you had for Festival Days…” Keppler nodded sympathetically.

“Mademoiselle Doucette, what can I do while Vautrin is gone?”

“You can help me dig.”

~~~

It seemed like hours before Vautrin returned; hours spent digging through the rubble of Genny’s life. A lot of wood was still smouldering, but a little careful scrounging in the dairy barn had turned up some buckets, charred from the fire but still watertight. Genny and Keppler were able to draw water from the well and use it to help cool things down as needed, but both sustained burns. Their skin, their clothes had turned as black as the soot around them by the time Vautrin returned in the company of a handful of soldiers, Madds among them.

“There was no one, Genny. I’m sorry,” Madds spoke softly after dismounting. “These soldiers have volunteered to help with the search. They’re all I can spare, and I’m afraid that I have to get back to the outpost. You look exhausted. Will you come with me?” 

Genny shook her head. “Not until I find them.”

Madds sighed. “Right then.” He turned to his soldiers and issued several crisp orders. Men and women got to work. Madds lingered long enough to satisfy himself that they were capable of the job, and tried once more to convince Genny to leave. She steadfastly refused. After he left with Vautrin and one other, Genny returned to her heartbreaking labour.

She was taking a break and trying to choke down some water when she heard someone exclaim over where the kitchen used to be. Dropping the canteen at her feet she made a beeline to the small cluster of soldiers who were working there. Keppler broke apart from the group when he saw her coming.

“No, Mademoiselle Doucette… You really ought not to see this.”

“I have to.”

“No, you really don’t…”

“They were my family.”

Soot-covered soldiers stepped aside reluctantly, affording Genny a view she would never forget. Three charred skeletons, cooked meat still clinging to their bony frames, clung to one another in such a way that precluded the possibility that they had been killed before the house had been set on fire. 

Genny had no idea, no memory, of how she got back to Arguvan after that.

~~~

The visiting officers’ quarters in the barracks was only somewhat protected from the noise, the hustle and bustle, of soldiers mustering for war. Madds had dropped by a couple of times to see how Genny was doing. The second time he had also told her that the Emperor had declared war on the rebels in Psyra, Korytsa, and Tyros. But most of Genny’s time was passed in a haze, largely induced, she thought, by the herbs that the medics were putting in the draughts they kept giving her. At some point, she knew, she would have to stop accepting the draughts, but for now sleeping all day long was far preferable to the alternative.

~~~

Madds came again with her next meal. She wasn’t sure if it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner. All she knew was that the sun was shining outside. It seemed preposterous that the sun could ever shine again after what had happened (and what _had_ happened, anyway?), but plainly the sun cared little about the minutiae of human existence.

Madds looked tired and worn out. Genny wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying as she mechanically forced a few forkfuls of food down her throat; his lips were moving and her ears heard sounds, but her brain could make no sense of them unless she concentrated.

“… Funeral this afternoon?”

“What?!” Genny could almost feel a switch turn off in her head as her loss came crashing down on her again. That’s what had happened: her family had been killed, and Madds was asking her if she felt up to attending their funeral this afternoon. “Already?”

“Genny, it’s been two days.” Madds held her as her body shook with unbearable grief, but his arms were not her mother’s or her father’s. She would never feel those arms around her again.

~~~

It was dusk and Genny was still kneeling in front of three fresh mounds of dirt in the military cemetery. Everyone, even Sister Bernadette, the priestess of Wolf who’d officiated, had left her some hours ago. She needed to think, she’d explained. She needed to grieve.

She recognized Madds’ soft footfalls as he approached, the way she could recognize her parents’ and her brother’s. Only those ones - those ones she’d never hear again, thanks to the Psyrenes. She heard the rustle of his uniform as he crouched down beside her. She felt his hand close gently on her shoulder, a gesture meant to bring comfort. Half the people left at the outpost had silently clasped her shoulder or her forearm in just such a way after throwing a handful of dirt on her family’s coffins. She didn’t know most of them.

“Genny, it’s getting late. Won’t you come in for some supper? You need to keep your strength up.”

“Why? What for? Everything’s gone, Madds. My family. My future. Everything. What am I meant to ‘keep my strength up’ _for_?”

“Not everything. You’re still here. You need to keep your strength up for you. You need to draw on it to help you figure out a new future.”

Genny had already figured out what her future should be during her vigil by the graves. She told Madds as much. “I’m going to enlist.”

The sudden tension in Madds’ frame was communicated to her in the moment before he withdrew his hand from her shoulder. “No. You’re not.”

Genny turned to him, confused. “So… it’s all right for you to be a soldier, but not me? Why?”

“I made my choice with a clear head. Right now, Genny, I don’t think you are capable of that.”

Genny’s temper sparked and flared. “My head is perfectly clear and has been since I threw a handful of dirt into my dead family’s graves. I’m going to enlist because that is the only reasonable thing I can do in light of what has happened.”

“This is _exactly_ what I mean. Psyrenes killed your family; you want Psyrenes to pay. I understand that, believe me, I do – but that is not a good reason for going to war!”

“It seems good enough for the emperor!”

Madds’ eyes flashed and Genny could see the effort he exerted to bring his own temper under control. He crossed his arms and his voice was even and measured when next he spoke, implacable. “Well, you’re too young to enlist, anyway. You’re only nineteen. I don’t accept your application to become an Imperial soldier. And since I’m the highest ranking officer here, that means you aren’t joining.”

“You bastard!” Genny hissed. “I’ll be twenty in a few months! What difference does it make?”

“All the difference in the world, right now. For the gods’ sakes, take those few months to recover and think. If you still want to enlist after you’re twenty, I will support you. I will even give you a recommendation, although I would be much happier knowing that you are far away from any fighting.”

“You don’t seriously believe that none of the soldiers under your command lied to get in, do you? Keppler, for instance, can’t be a day over eighteen.”

“Irrelevant; I _know_ you’re too young. And I’d dismiss any soldier under my command if I knew he or she was, too.”

“Fine! I’ll go enlist somewhere else!”

“No, you won’t. I will make sure all my colleagues know that Genevriel Doucette, a singularly tall, red-haired young woman with a Psyrene accent, unmistakable even if she assumes a false name, will not be twenty until Eleventh-month, and furthermore, is not mentally fit for duty.”

Furious and powerless, Genny shoved Madds out of the way and rushed back to the room she’d been assigned. She rammed the bolt home, locking everybody out.

~~~

The next morning, as she was eating breakfast, Genny was surprised by the number of civilians lining up in the parade grounds by the mess hall door. They were a ragtag group, with dirty clothes and bewildered faces. Some she recognized from Festival Day celebrations shared with other Aveyronnais settlers. She ran downstairs, hoping maybe that Marlon and Yvette might be among them. She searched in vain for their faces. Genny was on the verge of crying; she desperately needed friends, and following Madds’ betrayal, friends were in short supply.

Sister Bernadette approached her as she was about to head back to her room. “Good morning, Mademoiselle Doucette.” Genny eyed the woman dubiously. What could possibly be good about a morning in a world in which her family had been brutally murdered? As if she could read Genny’s mind, the Sister continued. “I buried my son and his wife this week, too. So I think I can understand a little of what you’re going through.”

Genny’s eyes welled over. Among the refugees, she noticed small clusters of children knotted together, with no parents in sight. Other family groups gave the distinct impression that there were gaps in their social fabric, like a missing parent or sibling. Nearly everyone looked as bereft as she herself felt. “So how can you say ‘good’ morning?”

“I could say something like ‘Any morning I find I’m still drawing breath is the beginning of a day full of possibility,’ and that would be true, but I admit that I am having trouble feeling it myself, right now. No; today is a good morning because we’re leaving for Guerne. We’ll be much safer there, and we’ll be able to begin the long process of healing. His Majesty has promised succour for displaced settlers; we’ll have food and shelter and they’ll even help us relocate to other parts of the Empire. I look forward to seeing my sister in Beladore again. And you? Do you have family somewhere who can take you in?”

She was being sent away from Psyra? Genny’s heart stuttered and something constricted her chest so tight that she could barely breathe. “Diablotin… But I’ve never been there, and I barely know them!” The thought of moving to the huge, unknown, city and living with strangers (even if they were related by blood) was nearly more overwhelming than the fact of her family’s deaths. “I… can’t!”

“Dear child, you certainly can’t stay here.” Sister Bernadette’s robes rustled as she moved to enclose Genny in a comforting hug. Genny wrenched herself away.

“Hey, Genny…” Madds’ voice was gentle, disarming. Genny looked up at the tall figure that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere next to the priestess. He looked strained. Of course; he was going to war. It was his first war, too. He looked like he hadn’t slept much and was barely managing to keep his own emotions in check, but he was trying hard to be stoic, to be the lieutenant his soldiers and the refugees needed him to be. Genny’s anger from the night before ebbed away and she found herself clinging to Madds, the only person she really knew anymore. “Please don’t send me away… Please let me stay,” she found herself begging him.

“I can’t, Genny. We’re being redeployed. The campaign trail, the front lines – none of those places will be good for you. And whoever is sent to replace me here at the outpost isn’t going to allow you to stay, either. Sister Bernadette and Brother Celes will look out for you since I can’t. I’m sorry.” He held her a little while longer before gently disengaging and handing her a piece of paper with an official-looking seal on it. “I’m sorry about this, too.”

Genny glanced up at him long enough to register his pained expression before turning her blurry vision to the paper in her hands. What she read nearly knocked her off her feet. “You can’t, you can’t take Miel and Carillon from me! They’re all I have left…!”

“I need them to haul equipment and supplies. I’m sorry, Genny.”

“Come along, Mademoiselle Doucette. It’s time to catch our train,” Sister Bernadette laid her hands firmly on Genny’s shoulders and attempted to steer her towards the rest of the refugees. Genny had no words left, and no strength, either, as she uselessly tried to pummel Sister Bernadette’s hands away. 

Twenty feet from Madds, Genny finally managed to bring both herself and the Sister to a stop. She whirled about to face him. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! Is that all you have to say? Well I’m sorry I ever came to know you!” The last of her spirit thus spent, she turned about and shuffled off sobbing with the rest of the refugees, utterly beaten.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Morning After Tea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464761) by [Fleurisse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurisse/pseuds/Fleurisse)




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